26 Moods of a dark Lord
by Duckie Nicks
Summary: A series of vignettes exploring Voldemort's life based on his moods.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: This chapter contains references to animal cruelty. Please only continue with this chapter if you're sure that you can handle reading such things.

This series is written for the Livejournal community, alphabetasoup, where I claimed Voldemort and a moods table. Thank you to my beta, Olly, for all of her assistance and encouragement.

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine._

**Twenty-six Moods of a dark Lord**  
**Chapter One: Optimistic**  
_By Duckie Nicks_

His young mind doesn't have the words to describe what he knows he is. Every day he waits for an answer, anticipates hearing what it is that makes him different from the others, from the _lesser_ ones. On the tip of his tongue, like ether, the words are just out of reach; they fill the air with an unknowable quality that he is fascinated by.

And he knows that the other kids feel the way the room changes when he's in it as well. They too do not understand (and why would they?) what separates him from _them_. Unless he is very much mistaken (and he doubts that he is), they do not possess the words to explain why fear trickles over them like water sliding down a windowpane whenever he is in the room. They do not know what he is or how he came to be that way. They simply sense what he is.

For them _and _for Tom, there are no words to describe this difference – other than to say that he is special. Actually _special_ – not the kind of "special" everyone around him is told they are, not the kind their caretakers throw around to make everyone feel _loved_ (even though their placement in the orphanage is proof enough that they are _not_).

He is different than that.

He is different from _them_, and the other children fear him for it.

They hate him – of that he is sure. He has seen in their eyes and heard in their words that their terror, their _jealousy_, has made them despise him. They avoid him when he is in the room, make no move to speak to him unless absolutely necessary. But Tom has already decided that it matters little to him.

It has never once occurred to him to try to be _friends_ (he sneers at the very word) with any of them. Friendship has never been something that interests him, and it's certainly _not_ what he wants; he doesn't desire their companionship.

Just their obedience.

And he gets what he wants.

He has ensured as much.

There was a time when the other children were willing to challenge him. But now, the memory of the rabbit is reason enough for them to obey.

Billy Stubbs' _poor_ little bunny – it was the turning point for all of the others. Before there were whispers, rumors about what he might have done with two of his fellow orphans on holiday. Tom had been, of course, blamed (though unpunished) for that incident, but it wasn't until the rabbit that the others realized: he would rob them of all they held dear to get what he wanted.

Because of that, they changed, and even now, though that "accident" is long behind all of them, Tom likes to think about the dead animal at night. He likes the way the feeling of power seems to surge through his body and the way his sneer (which always appears on his face when he remembers how stupid Billy sobbed for the broken creature) feels in the dark. It all makes Tom feel good – relaxed.

Which is important to him, because, if he's being honest with himself, he does not like the dark itself. He has a hard time ignoring the way the shadows shift along the peeling lead paint on the walls. He tries his best, but the way dark shapes bleed against one another makes him think that there is a threat lying in wait to seize him. And when he allows himself the weakness of fearing that which is beyond his control, sounds too become heightened and frightening, and he finds himself at the mercy of something else he can't name.

But these days, for each unfamiliar shape and noise, he has found a new way of mastering it: he simply replaces those nuisances with the pleasant memory etched in his brain. He has only gotten better with this habit – feels accomplished in knowing that he no longer needs to close his eyes to remember the rabbit. All he has to do is think – and the sight of the rabbit, twitching, squealing, and eventually going lifeless, comes to mind.

Tom still doesn't know why he is able to do these things, why he can hurt animals and talk to snakes and make people do what he wants. Sometimes, he worries that these abilities are really the product of a dream too good to ever come true.

Yet he has yet to wake up, and if anything, he finds that, as time goes by, he can perform these inhuman feats with increasing ability. He can tell when someone is lying and get revenge without lifting a finger. He can see weakness in others and exploit it for his own gain.

The little boy has no thoughts about whether it's right or wrong. But he believes he has the right. If you can do it and it makes you happy (and this certainly does), then why not?

And the best part of it all – aside from watching them all cower in fear – is knowing that they can't do a thing about it. They have already come to the same conclusion that he has: he will do this again and again, over and over. They know this, but they cannot stop him.

Knowing this, he finds himself unable to, at times, stop himself from looking at his hands. Though a finger never lifts, though there are no visible signs of what he can do, he whispers in those moments, "I am special."

Because, despite his name, Tom is special.

Oh yes he is.

_End (1/26)_


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: This series is written for the Livejournal community, alphabetasoup, where I claimed Voldemort and a moods table. Thank you to my speedy beta, Olly, for all of her assistance and encouragement.

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine_._ Obviously._

**Twenty-Six Moods of a dark Lord**  
**Chapter Two: Surprised**  
_By Duckie Nicks_

It's all very believable, he supposes. With his weakness for foul beasts, Hagrid does seem like the type to seek out a monster. This is why Tom implicates him: people _would_ believe it.

They would remember all of the times Hagrid said he wanted to raise dragons and acromantulas. They would recall seeing him carrying cardboard boxes with unknown creatures within, and they would tell themselves that _maybe_ he really had found the Chamber of Secrets.

Of course, they would doubt it at first.

How could a half-giant barely capable of spelling his name discover such a thing? After all, Dumbledore himself couldn't find anything, and they would say Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of the century, so if he couldn't find it, who could?

Yes, they would doubt it in the beginning.

Tom understands that the boldness of the lie will surprise them initially. Eventually though, their mistrust of giants will betray them. Every rumor they've ever heard about giants being violent, unstoppable brutes will slowly seep into their consciousness. They'll be so desperate for an answer, for someone to blame that they will fall prey to their own prejudice and let Hagrid take the fall.

Of this, Tom has no doubt: his plan will work precisely as he means it to.

Yet when it happens, when Hagrid is expelled from the school, Tom still finds himself caught by surprise. He always knew it would work, but he's still amazed at how _well_ it's worked. It bears repeating that he never doubted that it would, but he finds it of note that the professors who taught Hagrid, the students who took classes and became friends with doubted him so easily.

They didn't even give him a chance, Tom thinks with amusement.

Of course, _that_ fact isn't _really _surprising. Having been raised in an orphanage, he is more than aware of how simple it is to sever ties with another human being. His whole life has been a testament to the impermanence of relationships, and he has never been forgetful of that.

Nevertheless, he thinks this is a loud reminder. The way they turned on Hagrid so quickly, it's not hard to see why trusting anyone is ill advised. The ones Hagrid liked most are the ones who eagerly severed his wand, condemned him, and Tom realizes that friendship can only inhibit the greatness destined for him. He knows friendship is for those too weak to commandeer on their own.

And maybe that is what he finds most shocking. He didn't need anyone's help to aid him in this little adventure. More than how easy it was to blame Hagrid, more than how well the plan worked, it's the fact that Tom masterminded all of this on his own that he's most pleasantly surprised about.

He doesn't want to underestimate his own genius, naturally. He doesn't want to make it seem as though he only ever had a small chance of finding and opening the chamber, much less getting away with doing so. Because in his mind, there was no felicity about it. He succeeded, because he wanted to, because it was in his blood to do so.

Nonetheless, Tom is pleased at the effectiveness of his planning. He is happy to discover that, although he may let others into his circle, he does not _need_ them. His skills finally put to the test – against the greatest wizards in the world, he might add – he knows now that there is no limit to what he can possibly accomplish.

The world suddenly seems bright with possibility, and he goes to sleep that night dreaming of the day everyone realizes just what he has done.

_(2/26)_


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: This series is written for the Livejournal community, alphabetasoup, where I claimed Voldemort and a moods table ages ago.

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. Obviously. _

**Twenty-Six Moods Of A Dark Lord  
****Chapter Three: Grateful  
**_By Duckie Nicks_

Hogwarts will always be special to Tom. Unlike other past rulers in the wizarding world, he'll never fail to see the purpose in educating his subjects. On the contrary, when he is able to claim the Ministry of Magic as his own, he will hold everyone to the standard he sets for himself. He'll make sure they learn, perfect their craft, purify their blood.

Yet even as a mere prefect, Tom can see the shortcomings of the school. The mudbloods and morons are a problem, of course. Muggle studies is a vile joke that taints the education they all receive. But what bothers him the most is the narrow focus of the books one has access to in the library. The restricted section exists, but it has taken years of cozying up to professors to gain enough trust to peruse even the most light-hearted fare that part of the library has to offer.

It galls him, because Tom knows the secret to success is to erase the potential for failure. If he wishes to have complete control, he needs to ensure that no one will ever be able to harm him. He will need to cheat death.

He spends a good portion of his time at Hogwarts searching for a way. Of all the research he's done, he has only found one possible avenue for accomplishing his goal. He doesn't know what it is, although he has hazarded a guess as to its definition, but the possibility consists of one word:

_Horcrux_.

Tom considers furthering his research on his own but decides against it. He has spent enough time in the restricted section now that if he persists, it may cast a negative light on his abilities. He's not ready for that – yet. Still, he needs answers, which means he will have to rely on a professor for assistance. But who will suit?

Slughorn is his immediate answer. The man makes it his business to ingratiate himself to students he feels will have a bright future. It is a weakness Tom and others have exploited in the past. It won't be hard to do it again, though given the nature of the information Tom wants, he'll have to proceed tactfully.

Tom purchases a box of crystallized pineapple and waits for a night when Professor Slughorn is relaxed with a glass of wine in his hand and an audience around him. Other students put the man at ease; they unknowingly play a role in their inevitable subjugation, and Tom feels no pity for them.

Slughorn thanks Tom for the gift when he gives it to him on this fateful night. Although he notes Tom's knack for careful flattery, Tom makes sure that Slughorn is unable to resist his charm when the other boys leave.

No, horcruxes aren't part of a project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Tom explains. That would be a lie too easily traced back, and Slughorn _would_ do that eventually if Tom employed on that explanation. No, it's not for school; it's just a term he came across.

Tom pretends to be hesitant in asking, makes sure to seem as though he's trying to avoid being insulting when truthfully he couldn't care less.

And then finally, _finally_, after weeks of work, Tom gets what he wants. Slughorn says just enough. A horcrux conceals the soul. The wizard splits their soul, uses the damage received from murdering another to his own advantage. There is a spell, but of course Slughorn doesn't know it. Tom is unconcerned about this detail. His hunger to know this much is being satiated, and he feels something that could approximate gratitude and glee flit through his system. Slughorn is giving him _answers_.

Tom makes a mistake when he asks, "Can you only split your soul once?" The question is innocuous on its own, surely, but greed loosens him up to reveal just enough of his thoughts to make Slughorn nervous.

The conversation seems wildly dangerous to both of them in that moment. Tom does his best to confirm that this is all academic, but he isn't sure he's convincing.

When the discussion is over however, Tom realizes that he will be safe. If Slughorn suspects something is wrong with him now, he is arrogant enough to choose protecting his own reputation over reporting his suspicions to Dumbledore. Tom thinks he can't be any more appreciative of Slughorn's ego than he is at that moment.

This is a lie.

Years later, when Tom Riddle no longer exists, when Lord Voldemort emerges, he hears inklings of Dumbledore's plans. Perhaps Dumbledore suspects he has made horcruxes to ensure his survival. But Voldemort knows Slughorn has never told Dumbledore about their conversation, and within time, Slughorn will surely tamper with those memories so that Dumbledore can never know the truth.

Whenever he thinks of the potions professor with his gingery-blond mustache, Voldemort decides that he will need to show his gratitude to his former mentor. If Slughorn is located and brought to him alive, if the man cannot prove to be a loyal and useful ally, Voldemort will make sure the man has a swift ending.

After all, dark lords are allowed to show mercy sometimes. It gives others hope that they too will be spared. Voldemort can exploit that. He'll make sure of it.

_(3/26)_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: the series isn't mine._

**Twenty-six Moods Of A Dark Lord  
****Chapter Four: Nostalgic  
**_By Duckie Nicks_

The golden locket is cold in his hand, but his body thrums with the energy the seemingly innocuous piece of jewelry provides. As an orphan, Tom has never known what it's like to feel connected to a family, to have that… bond. The concept is foreign to him, but he has heard and read about the joys a person can derive from being loved. The further he delves into his family's lineage however, the clearer it becomes to him that he has not missed something of any use to him. A weak mother, a muggle father – what could _he_ hope to get from _that_?

It is possible though that the thrill of getting the locket is getting to him, because the second it's in his grasp, Tom feels a connection to the past that he has never had before. He waits until he is far from Hepzibah Smith's home to truly give the matter consideration. He had no choice. The house elf's memories had to be tampered with. Tom had to make sure that his presence in the home would never be noteworthy to anyone examining the witch's murder. He had to make a horcrux.

Now that his plans have succeeded, he has the time to look over what he's gained. For a moment, his gaze is distracted, lingers on Hufflepuff's cup instead. But even with a piece of soul now cased inside, the item isn't as exciting as the one link Tom has to the great Salazar Slytherin.

Tom is not one for reminiscing, but the locket seems to invite it. The green stones shine brightly in a neat pair of curves to form a brilliant S. It requires no effort to see the serpent in the piece. His thumb traces the jeweled creature and imagines the long line of ascendants required to carry his blood back to Slytherin's.

Still in the present but now also in a day time has long since forgotten, Tom sees Salazar Slytherin standing before him. The wizard is not physically present, but he might as well be in that moment. Tom imagines looking into the man's eyes and seeing in those irises, his own destiny.

Tom searches for answers of a different sort too. Why would Slytherin want this locket? The item requires Parseltongue to open, which Tom is able to do without thinking. It's a piece of jewelry that necessitates a display of magical supremacy in order to work, but Tom wonders if the safeguard was put in place for other reasons. What had the powerful Salazar Slytherin intended to do with a mere trinket anyway?

The golden doors of the locket open and reveal nothing.

It's oddly disappointing. Tom understands that he wouldn't have been the only one to see the secret inside should there have been one. Yet it would have been fascinating to see what Slytherin might have used the locket for.

No matter. Tom will find a superior use for it now.

_(4/26)_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: not mine._

**Twenty-six Moods Of A Dark Lord  
****Chapter Five: Kind  
**_By Duckie Nicks_

The house is hidden within Burnham Beeches. Although it's rarely used by Voldemort to bring Death Eaters together, it's magically concealed, protected with many of the same charms that Hogwarts employs to keep muggles and unfriendly wizards away. The inside consists of necessities for battle and a few frivolous items, should Voldemort ever want them. He never does though; he's too busy pressing his advantage within the wizarding world for anything else. For that reason, he has had to rely on various locations to deliver the messages other magical means of communication can't be trusted to send.

Yet Burnham Beeches still serves a purpose even when he can't be there.

The woodlands can conceal even the loudest of screams.

Within his ranks, there are servants who need a continual supply of violence. Voldemort only forces them to exercise restraint when necessary, on the rare occasion that a traitorous pureblood is worth more alive than dead. Otherwise… why shouldn't his Death Eaters perfect their bloodletting skills?

Bellatrix in particular seems to require a quantum of torture frequently. Voldemort sees it in her deadened dark eyes. She is infatuated with him because of his own penchant for murder. Should he force her to exercise too much self-control however, she would abandon his ranks. He tolerates this – for now. Like the wildest of creatures, she needs to be coaxed toward obedience. Oh, he'll hurt her when it's required, but it would be far better currently to allow her her toys to satiate her hunger.

It will make her more loyal in the end.

He allows her exclusive use of the home when she feels it necessary to play with a muggle or two without distraction. She takes only those who will never be missed or whose disappearance will never be the subject of great speculation. She takes the least impressive muggles who inspire her anger. She knows to leave the magical community alone until he gives her instructions otherwise.

Today will be one of those times when she earns the right to _remove_ a wizard. He travels to Burnham Beeches, where he knows she's demonstrating her prowess on an unsuspecting mudblood. The order could be delivered other ways, but he wants her to associate his presence with this gift.

Once he passes through the magical barriers, he can hear the screaming. From a girl, he guesses with no real interest in whether or not he's right. When he enters the home, he is impressed with the amount of blood Bellatrix has managed to extract from a young woman.

Before either woman registers his appearance, Voldemort has raised his wand – _"Avada Kedavra" _– and killed the muggle. He does not intend to give the filthy mudblood the kindness of a quick release, but today benevolence works to his advantage and the creature's.

Bellatrix turns to see who has robbed her of the joy of being the one to take the animal's life. Her rage lessens when she sees who it is.

She smiles at him when he tells her what he wants done.

_(5/26)_


End file.
